No Permanent Address, Too

My First New Year's Resolution!

2006-12-30T12:00:00.000-06:00

I’m seldom home when the G-Man (Garbage Man) comes around each week, but due to the holiday, garbage was picked up today.

I wanted to meet the guy who picks up my garbage, mostly to give him a buck or two for the past year of excellent service. I managed to catch the truck at my house, and as I handed the driver a ‘double saw’ and some cookies, he mentioned he’d be sure to give the ‘tip’ to my ‘regular’ driver but thought he’d eat the cookies himself.

So, I gave the guy a CASE of cookies to take back to his shop. I mentioned that my wife and I valued their courteous service, particularly because I am disabled and she is elderly.

Smiling, the garbage man exclaimed, “Well, you don’t look disabled!”

I responded, “Well, my wife doesn’t look elderly.”

As the happy G-Man drove away in his stinky old truck, I wondered if what I just heard was a compliment, or an ignorant statement made by a fool who wasn’t thinking of others.

I figured it was likely an 'ignorant statement' situation, so as my first New Year’s Resolution, beginning MONDAY, I pledge to keep my fool mouth shut and not mention my disability to others.

Phew. That wasn’t hard.

Kelly

The Little Porta-Potty That Worked!

2006-12-06T12:00:00.000-06:00

If you’ve kept up with homeless news, you’ve seen quite a bit written about the problems and laws and solutions surrounding homeless folks' need to use toilet facilities. Elaborate designs and sturdy structures costing tens of thousands of dollars have been proposed, constructed and tried in downtowns across the country and the world!

Didn’t we read something this past year about ‘public toilets’ located in some DT that became havens for drug abuse and prostitution?

Where did we read about those fancy, disappearing toilets that cleaned inside automatically only a few minutes after each user left? Problems began when the toilet's automatic cleaning feature began while still occupied! Seems that tourists would often pass out, drunk in the john, and promptly receive a through (however, dangerous!) cleansing.

HERE’S A SHORT STORY … of The Little Porta-Potty That Worked!

I served some homeless friends who lived in a junkyard full of old cars, with permission from the owner of the yard. I gave these friends fruit that was donated to me whenever I could, hoping the fruit would provide at least something ‘healthy’ for them to eat. On one occasion, the fruit I had to give was prunes. I was kind of joking when I gave my friends the first bags of prunes I had, but soon, they were asking for ‘just a few more bags’. And they weren’t joking.

I gave my friends many bags of prunes that month. My friends proceeded to get sugar and yeast (on Food Stamps), and combine those items with the prunes and four gallons of water in a six-gallon pail. Time passed (giving the prunes time to ‘cook up’) and my friends began dipping into their home-made hooch. No surprise, the hooch gave my friends quite a kick in the seat, and soon, they were running for the nearest ‘sh*tter’. The nearest ‘sh*tter’ happened to be another six-gallon pail that was hidden amongst the junked cars; only this pail was lined with a black trash bag. As my friends emptied the pail of hooch, the bag in the other pail quickly filled! After a week of hooching, and using what little common sense my friends had left (being drowned by gallons upon gallons of hooch!), one of them tossed the almost-full black bag into nearby weeds.

The owner of the yard didn’t know about the hooch. He always expected to find some semblance of sense among my senseless friends when he came around to check up on his property. Early one Saturday morning, after finding the crew passed out drunk from their homemade hooch, he angrily fired up his power trimmer and commenced to making all kinds of weed-whackin’ noise.

ERRRRR…ERRRR…ERRRR…. went the weed-whacker, as he moved his way along the fence line of overgrown weeds, right up to the black bag whose contents lay hidden until … ZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRR … RIPPPPP!

He hit that black bag of stuff with his trimmer … the poop must have flown everywhere! His screams and cursing could be heard three blocks away … and quickly waked my slumbering friends.

As the story goes, the owner left the lot in quite a huff … covered in all kinds of ‘stuff’. It’s been said that he even had little strips of soiled toilet paper hanging from his wire-rimmed glasses. The owner didn’t come back to the lot for weeks, but on the very next day, a local company, NATURE’S WAY, delivered a bright, clean and shiny porta-potty to the yard. The potty stayed in the yard until the lot was sold for development.

While most of my homeless friends have since moved on, there came a day when each could say they finally had a pot to ‘potty’ in ...

And it was the little porta-potty that worked!

Keeping **it clean,

Kelly

Miracle on Homeless Street

2006-12-05T18:00:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite Christmas movies is Miracle on 34th Street.

If you’ve seen it, do you recall the very last scene when the folks walk into the living room of the house that's for sale, and Uncle Fred looks over to the fireplace, and there, leaning against the wall is … Kris Kringle’s cane?

Well, I found where Santa Clause spent LAST night!

At least, I think I found Kris's cane!

Kelly

Minimum Wage Is Maximum Wrong

2006-12-03T08:00:00.000-06:00

Sorry about the spin in this entry … but I read an article (Minimum wage hike won’t go far) about a proposal to raise the Federal minimum wage to seven-something dollars. The first lines of the article read:

“Two months into her minimum wage job at Target Corp., (she) realized she and her three children would be better off if she was unemployed and on food stamps. So she quit.”

At that point, my mind wandered to an experience I had in Corporate/Employee relations, and that experience tells me that livability problems, even survival issues for employees won’t be solved by Federally-mandated rules and regulations.

In the late 80’s, Target Stores had a diverse group of employees, from elderly and disabled folks, to young people. Typically, the elderly or disabled worked at the cash registers, young people stocked shelves at night, and middle-aged men and women managed the stock room and performed janitorial duties. Then, some FOOLS introduced a new ‘employee’ program that changed the way employees were scheduled and the duties they were to perform.

The elderly ladies had worked at the registers for years … I mean, some for ten or twenty years, even coming from the older Dayton’s stores. These people were making upwards of twelve dollars (plus) an hour, not profitable for the Corporation. Longtime employees were ‘vested’ in retirement and profit-sharing plans, again, not profitable for the Corporation’s future. Older employees also took advantage of the opportunity provided by their employee insurance plans, and as this employee group aged, insurance and medical expenses were rising for the Corporation: again, not profitable for the Corporation.

The Corporation’s answer: Put all employees, current and future, into Teams. These Teams would be assigned ‘rotating’ duties, meaning cashiers now belonged to a Team that would have to work some overnight stockroom shifts, disabled employees might be required to corral carts (in the winter), and the folk’s who cleaned the bathrooms would have to work the snack bar. As the program was written and implemented, it was presented as a ‘fairer’, more ‘equal’ opportunity for all employees. Sounds good, eh?

The result was that the overpaid-elderly quit, due to ‘attrition’. The disabled were presented with tasks difficult to perform, so many quit. Anybody making over minimum wage was slowly forced to retire or quit because it wasn’t good for the Corporation’s bottom line.

I know. I was one of the FOOLS that worked on the new employee program. The program was called Team Flex Staffing. Every time I walked into a Target Store during while I worked on the project and saw one of those happy old ladies working the registers … every time I saw an elderly man happily cleaning and sweeping the isles … every time I saw a disabled person gladly working the snack bar … I sunk INSIDE because I knew their future with the Corporation would soon change.

I wasn’t around the Corporation to see what happened in the few months that followed the initiation of Team Flex Staffing. The program may have only lasted a few years, but the broader vision of the Corporation was Profits, not people. I wonder if the vision foresaw the workforce you see today at Target Stores; a workforce that can hardly survive at their current, minimum wage.

I quit the business of writing for Business and began volunteering with the vulnerable, the disabled and the homeless soon after my experience with Team Flex Staffing ended. So, in a way, I have the inhumanity of a Corporation to thank for easing me into the more ‘humane’ work of serving the homeless.

I don’t understand why a large business like Target can’t afford to make an investment in the personal lives of each and every employee. Target’s only excuse has to be THE BOTTOM LINE; a line that directly contributes to the numbers who live at or below THE POVERTY LINE.

Still working in the trenches,

Kelly

Give The Guy A Bath!

2006-12-01T07:00:00.000-06:00

I asked my buddy, “Willie, if you had a thousand bucks, what would you do with it?”

He replied, “I’d get myself a bath!”

He laughed. I smiled. After a thoughtful pause, Willie added, “And, I’d sleep in a bed.”

I thought to myself, “Gee Wiz Willie! You get a check, you could get a room, take a shower, sleep in a hotel bed.”

Then, I imagined to myself that Willie’s been booted from most hotels in the area and if he even could get a room, he’d need someone to help him with keys and sheets and shower curtians. He’d need to have a clean change of rags and someone to get him food. He’d need some REAL hospital-type care.

I realized to myself that Willie can’t stand in a shower. Willie can’t take a conventional bath. Willie needs some professional care like foot rubs and haircuts and comfortable beds; just like an athlete needs professional equipment and trainers and purposeful activity called ‘practice’ to be the BEST! Or, just like you or me can probably go home tonight and take a clean bath and feel safe and secure.

Then, I wished to myself … I wished I had the knowledge or the means or the friends that could HELP Willie get cleaned up and rested.

I wondered to myself if I just took Willie to a hospital and explained his need and pleaded our case, if they would take Willie for just a couple of days and treat him with the kind of kind-care he needs and deserves right now. Nah. They’d probably keep him and tape him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

And then I knew in myself that the solution to Willie’s need was bigger than the “I” and “myself” that I was thinking.

So … I’m asking you and yourself right now, for Willie.

I’m asking you and your friends to present ideas and offer solutions and give contributions to INDIVIDUALS who you know that really help guys like Willie get what they need THIS day and EVERY day ... no matter the SEASON! Give the BEST of yourSELF that you can afford to give.

Whew … I’ll better quit writing this, and get mySELF out to the streets to see if I can find Willie …

And Give The Guy A Bath!

Kelly

Helping the Homeless

2006-11-27T21:00:00.000-06:00

I get to spend a lot of time alone, doing what I do.

I’m alone when I walk the tracks, searching for friends in jungle camps. I’m alone when I drive to and fro across the city to crews on the North, West and Southeast sides of town. I’m alone when I’m parked on some side street to make sandwiches in the back of my van.

I take the responsiblity of serving food to my homeless friends seriously. I buy fresh ingredients to prepare daily; I work in a safe, clean environment; and I only prepare what I would eat myself. Afterall, I'm serving The King. Besides, I eat sandwiches most everyday.

Every week, I pick up boxes of chips and snacks from a local distributor to pass along to food shelves, drop-in centers and my homeless friends.

Local churches collect clothing from youth groups and individual members that I share with my friends who need a change of rags.

I get cases of ‘dollar store surplus’ cookies and friends help me pass these along to food shelves and old folks homes. I make smaller, ‘snack-size’ bags of cookies to put in bag lunches for my friends.

When people ask me what the homeless need, I try to explain all the hurts and wants and hopes that I see everyday on the streets. I try to explain their need for family ... and friends.

And then, I just give them this picture and say, “We always need stuff like this.”

Then I say, "Thank you, friend ... for asking."

Kelly

Feed the Hungry!

2006-11-17T21:00:00.000-06:00

You see hungry people all around you; everyday.

If you go to the city, you see hungry people on street corners begging. You see hungry people gathered in small groups in alleys and behind buildings and in little clumps of woods. You see hungry people standing in long lines on cold nights at downtown churches.

If you want to feed hungry people you see in the city, here’s a simple, quick idea that proves to be a pleasant treat for all involved! Be sure to invite friends and family to help you complete this simple project: Feed the Hungry!

Buy a chunk of processed cheese slices. Don’t skimp; buy the kind of cheese you would eat yourself. Sliced, processed cheese costs about $.10 per slice in packages of 16 slices.
Total cost: A couple of bucks.

Buy a package of crackers to go with the cheese slices. Pick the kind of crackers that you would buy for yourself.
Total cost: A few bucks.

If you’ve invited friends and family to share in this project, you should have a couple of boxes of crackers and a few chunks of cheese. Have some sandwich bags handy, and then plan to have a mess of fun …
Total cost: Your time.

Cut a stack of cheese slices (8) into four square pieces.

Open the boxed crackers and make smaller, individual packs that will be bagged together with the pieces of cheese.

Carry these handy treats in your car in an empty coffee can; or carry a few with you as you walk the streets. If you typically see hungry people in your day-to-day, it won’t be difficult to find someone that will enjoy your cheese and cracker treats. You can have the kids write simple, heartfelt notes that can be included in the bags of treats … and PRESTO!

Feed the Hungry!
Total investment: Your Love.

So, there you go. You end up having a good time with family and friends; you end up feeding a hungry soul or two; and you will end up with a treasure built in The Eternity.

Kelly

Three Classes of People; One Goal

2006-11-03T19:00:00.000-06:00

Lower class, poor people talk about their problem being not having enough money. Many lower class people work their whole lives, hardly earning enough money to survive. All the while the poor person works, his goal is never MORE MONEY.

Middle class, medium income people talk about their problem being not having enough money. Many middle class people work their whole lives, barely getting enough money to pay their credit card bills. All the while the middle income person works, his goal is never MORE MONEY.

Upper class, rich people talk about their problem being not having enough money. Many upper class people work their whole lives, never seeing enough money. All the while the rich person works, his goal is never MORE MONEY.

The upper class person works for THE MOST MONEY. The more money one has, the more POWER one holds over others in the upper class. The person (country, corporation, public party, etc.) with the most money has THE MOST POWER.

The middle class person works for GOOD LOOKS. The better one looks, the more POWER one holds over others in the middle class. The person (movie star, soccer mom, dictator, etc.) with the best looks has THE MOST POWER.

The lower class person works for RESPECT. The more respect one has, the more POWER one holds over others in the lower class. The person (religious worker, folk hero, gang member, etc.) with the deepest respect has THE MOST POWER.

Three classes of people; one goal. POWER.

It’s not complicated, except that within each of these classes (upper, middle and lower) we find people who fit into the ‘rich lower class’ or the ‘good looking upper class’ or the ‘well respected middle class’; anomalies which totally mess up everybody’s day!

The sad truth is few people care about anything other then their own, personal, and sometimes selfish pursuits of THE MOST MONEY, THE BEST LOOKS or THE DEEPEST RESPECT … when all most people really want is some POWER in their lives.

GO FIGURE!

Then, let me know the answers please.

Still living the dream,

Kelly

Willie's Recent Adventure

2006-10-19T21:05:00.000-05:00

To those of you who read these posts; I apologize for being off-line for awhile. I had been busy grieving the loss of a dear friend.

I’ve still been out on the streets, as often as the Lord (and funds) permit. When it comes to funding, the organization that I volunteer with, HOPE of Minnesota, does well considering it conducts NO orchestrated fundraising. All of the friends who contribute time, resources and/or prayers to our efforts are volunteers. Nobody gets paid for what they do. Nobody complains about the tasks they face. Nobody can get fired, unless God has something to do with the termination.

So, like any other well-intentioned, faith-based, semi-organized effort to help the less fortunate, HOPE of Minnesota has had its share of quitters; folks who say they will and then they don’t. Of course, people move on, people quit, people disappear into the future …

As I mentioned, I had been experiencing one of those really painful, lonely times after my dear friend, Willie – a vulnerable, elderly, homeless friend – went AWOL. That is, he went AWOL until recently when he came home!

Yep! Willie was alone for awhile, but now he’s home. He just got back from his recent adventure … off looking for his past when most of his loved ones have already passed. When he got to where he thought he wanted to be, he got robbed, lost all of his personal possessions and phone numbers, and then spent two months trying to get back to his family here on the streets of Minneapolis.

Anyway, for those of you who care, here’s another picture of Willie after he just got back. And MAN, was he hungry!

Isn’t everybody a wee bit hungry … HUNGRY FOR LOVE!

Kelly

'Sacred Sleep' Too Deep!

2006-10-18T21:00:00.000-05:00

I read an article about a church in San Francisco that keeps doors open from 8 am to 4 pm, giving homeless folks an opportunity to obtain a few hours of sleep and refuge each day; sleep that has come to be called ‘sacred sleep’. Of course, the program is in danger of shutting down now due to lack of funding. And while the ‘sacred sleep’ program sounds too good to be true, come to find out, it’s just doesn’t fit into the city’s ten-year plan to end homelessness.

You can read the entire article about the St. Boniface Catholic Church in San Francisco here, but briefly, the article points out:

“When the (sacred sleep) program started, just 30 people slept (on pews) there -- but now the number has climbed to 200 or 300. It costs $140,000 annually to run the program … the city (of San Francisco) contributes 20 percent … "

Wow! Only $140,000 per year to provide safety and refuge to 200, maybe 300 homeless people everyday, 365 days per year?

Granted, the article doesn’t tell us how many days a week the church stays open for the homeless. But having at least ONE San Francisco church willing to provide clean bathroom facilities, a drug-free environment and spiritual awakening opportunities for up to 300 homeless folks everyday? I can’t imagine any city that wouldn’t jump at the chance to have a church do the same thing, even if it meant the city needed to fund the entire annual budget of 140k! Come on; $140,000 a year to serve 200 to 300 people every day? That’s two bucks per person per day!

But, just like it sounds too good to be true … the article states that the ‘sacred sleep’ program is getting too expensive to continue. So, the church has had to cut hours, from eight hours to four hours each day. Plus, the Reverend has had to make other note-worthy changes.

“The new pastor … has made some changes … not allowing the homeless to store their belongings in the confessionals … and requiring them to sit up during (a) noon Mass.”

Ouch! That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment, waking up to Mass! I wonder if folks are allowed to use church bathrooms after Mass.

The Bible that St. Boniface in San Francisco teaches from tells us that “the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” (Romans 8:26, for those interested). This ‘intercession’ happens ‘for us’ (yes, even for the homeless) during times such as ‘sacred sleep’; times when our minds and bodies have shut down (and, shut up) in rest. One of the homeless ‘sacred sleepers’ testified to this himself …

“ … Jeffery Grant … just waking up from a nap (in a church pew) … said he never dreams when he dozes outside; At St. Boniface, though, he dreams … 'Good dreams … about good things happening in my life.'”

While some people might say, “Let the homeless get their sacred sleep!” the City of San Francisco says that doesn’t fit into the City’s Ten Year Plan of ‘humanity for the homeless’.

“… (a) San Francisco supervisor asked by Mayor Gavin Newsom to lead the writing of a 10-year plan to end chronic homelessness in the City, said she admires the work of … St. Boniface tremendously, but does see an upside to limiting the sleeping hours at the church. 'Nobody should be sleeping in the day and up all night,' Alioto said. 'It's just not humane.'"

Alioto doesn’t speak well for the businesses and entertainment venues that employ and cater to folks who ‘work all night’. Besides, for some elderly, vulnerable folks, sometimes, it’s WORK just getting UP any time, day or night!

Alioto adds …

“'… programs like these (sacred sleep), while well intentioned, can keep people from finding the motivation to seek permanent housing. They won't assertively search for permanent, supportive housing if they think they can sleep in the church all day long,' she said.”

If the Mayor-appointed person in charge of planning San Francisco’s 10-year plan to end homelessness begins her charge by making such inhumane (and grossly ignorant) statements about the vulnerable group she has been appointed to serve, the vulnerable will not get the help they need and deserve as human beings, citizens of this Country and residents of San Francisco (albeit, residents with No Permanent Address.)

I guess San Francisco isn’t any different than any other City in this country, and all Ten Year Plans look the same to the homeless; when you turn the lights out for sleep, sacred or not.

Well, I say, "Sweet dreams" to Jeffery!

And, to all our homeless friends throughout the world, "Sacred sleep, eh?!!!"

Kelly

Homelessness; A Public Ignominy

2006-09-13T22:00:00.000-05:00

While driving around, I couldn’t help but notice how much care and money we spend to provide a safe and secure place for all of our excess ‘stuff’. There’s probably a Pubic Storage in your neighborhood!

I wonder why we can’t invest as much money and concern in providing a safe and secure environment for the poor and homeless in our society? Something like a Public Refuge?

Coming to your neighborhood soon!

Cracks in Your Pot?

2006-08-19T16:00:00.000-05:00

An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments; but, the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?"

That's because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them."

For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Each of us has our own, unique flaw; but it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them.

SO … to all of my crackpot friends; have a great day. And remember to smell the flowers on your side of the path!

(Reprinted without permission because I have no idea who made up this wonderfully fanciful story for a summer day; the photo is my own.)

Those Complicated Homeless People

2006-08-09T16:00:00.000-05:00

Has anybody ever asked you, “Why are those people homeless?”

You know, there are as many complicated answers to that question as there are complicated people living in homelessness. But, in case you think you have all the answers figured out, here’s something that will really complicate your day!

Multiple Chemical Sensitivities (MCS) can drive sufferers into poverty as well as ill health

“Most people with MCS end up living in their cars." Others wind up in a friend's backyard, a stripped-down RV, or a canvas tent on public land.

‘[The MCS homeless] are mostly not living in urban areas, they're mostly trying to live in rural areas where the air is cleaner and the water is cleaner, and that becomes a problem because the services [for the homeless] are less available in rural areas,’ says Zwillinger. ‘And they can't go into shelters the way the [non-MCS] homeless can,’ because in a busy building they would likely encounter any number of chemicals their bodies can't handle.”

Please link to the original article in GRIST Magazine. It’s a long article, but especially informative and well written.

Then, next time someone asks you a complicated question, like “Why are people homeless?” you can answer simply, like “Some people just can’t live in a home.”

A Slice of Cheesy Love

2006-08-03T18:00:00.000-05:00

Granted, what I do – feeding sandwiches, chips and soda pop to the homeless – isn’t a big deal, but it’s a ‘hoot’ for an old man like me. I enjoy investing the time it takes to prepare and serve food to my fellowman, woman or child. I’ll even feed stray dogs or council people if they don’t bite me first.

I’ve made so many sandwiches for real, I make them in my sleep. I make them 8, 10 or 12 at a time. I’ve made 360 sandwiches in a little more than an hour more than once before, but I’d much rather make a few at a time; the food looks and tastes fresher that way. Plus, it’s more fun to feed small groups of 10 or 12. Any group larger than a dozen attracts a crowd, and crowds often become unruly, and I never have enough love to pass around an unruly crowd.

Today as I made sandwiches, I prepared my work space and carefully laid out eight slices of bread. I positioned one piece of salami on each slice of bread, and reached for the small package of cheese to use first. I had nine slices of cheese for eight sandwiches. I figured; eat the extra slice of cheese, or put two slices of cheese on one sandwich. I carefully placed the extra slice of cheese on one of the sandwiches, and then giggled as I imagined who would get the double-cheese surprise today.

It might not sound like much to some people, finding out your salami sandwich has two slices of cheese on it; but when you eat most of your meals in church basements, food lines or alleys, you notice little differences in the food you eat.

‘So, the food smells funny? It doesn’t smell BAD yet.’

‘No mustard? They always serve mustard with tuna fish. I hate tuna; but NO MUSTARD? COME ON!’

‘Wow! This stuff tastes homemade … like by a little, old grandma!!’

Yeah; you can taste the LOVE someone puts in the food they make and serve. It doesn’t matter if you are eating in a restaurant, or if you are eating on the street.

I know, I’ve tasted enough LOVE while eating on the street to last two people two lifetimes! I sure hope you get a chance to taste that LOVE sometime; even if it’s just a slice of cheesy LOVE!

Feeding Homeless 'Immoral' and 'Degrading'

2006-08-03T16:00:00.000-05:00

Have you been following the headlines about the homeless feeding law in Las Vegas? Have you been reading what folks are doing in response to those headlines?

Don't feed homeless, Las Vegas statute says

I must be missing something; I don’t understand why any organization would want to feed huge groups of poor and homeless in city parks. I think the headlines along with the resulting protests, increased feeding efforts and law suits are misdirected and will not help the homeless. I think the story is being ‘spun funny’, and will only end up encouraging organizations that rely on publicity to raise money to keep them in ‘the business’ of serving the poor and the needy.

I serve the homeless on the streets of Minneapolis for a non-profit. Much of the food people want to donate is day-old or ‘garbage’; most of the donated clothing is ripped, torn or missing zippers or buttons; just about everything donated is offered in ignorance and indifference. Most people don’t really care about the homeless unless there’s something in it for them.

When I talk to homed people about helping the homeless, I often hear comments, such as: “They’re not like us, are they. Well, it’s better than nothing! If it doesn’t hurt, they’ll never change.” When someone asks, ‘What do the homeless need?’ I respond, ‘The same things that you need, everyday.’

Have you ever stood in line with 30, 40, 100 people waiting to eat? It doesn’t matter if that line is in a church, a fast-food joint or a city park; it’s a nightmare. When you’re stranded in a horde of a line waiting for ‘poor services’, all the people in line look and smell the same; desperate.

If you think eating ‘church food’ from a line with a hundred other desperate people in a city park is a picnic (or a blessing), you must be smokin’ the funny stuff. I've even heard it called 'immoral' and 'degrading.'

One reason that homelessness will always be with us is because we forget to ‘treat our neighbors as we treat oursevles.'

Rain Man?

2006-07-31T12:01:00.000-05:00

From Concord, Massachusetts, we get yesterday’s news of a homeless man caught sleeping in somebody’s home.

Police: Former Mental Patient Found Sleeping In Concord Home

"It was determined that he (Robert Spire) had smoked some of the homeowner's cigarettes and drank some wine," Lt. Walter Carroll said.

Portsmouth police said they were surprised to learn that Spire was not still at the state mental hospital.

Spire told police he had recently left the state hospital and was headed home to Florida.

The story reminds me of the movie, RAIN MAN.

Is the homeless man, Robert Spire, (also, a former mental patient?) a savant like Rain Man (Raymond)? Where was Spire’s brother (like Charlie) when he needed him; or, now that he does; or if he even has such a brother?

I think all of us need more (true) family and (honest) friends willing and able to help us out in times of need. We all have times of need, eh? I do; I just don’t need to smoke cigarettes and drink wine, thank you.

I wonder … Who is Robert Spire, the human being?

Living Outdoors

2006-07-30T21:00:00.000-05:00

Have you ever asked: With shelters available to the homeless, why do some persist on living outside, under bridges and in storefront doorways?

As pointed out by WCCO TV, Minneapolis, the answer may be hiding as close as your nearest ‘tenting’ neighbor.

Tent Campers Form Friendly Fraternity
http://wcco.com/local/local_story_210161856.html

“For many, that's the appeal of tenting; a comforting feeling of becoming part of your surroundings. Every night in a tent is a one-on-one experience with nature and nature is always an excellent host.

Pleasant memories of the simple things, like the morning sun casting long shadows on tent walls, is what really motivates tenters and continually lures them back to the outdoors.”

There is a large segment of the homeless population that avoids using drop-in centers or overnight shelters. If you ask them why they’d prefer living outside, often alone and in miserable conditions, you’ll get answers as varied and twisted as the persons you ask. But most answers will wind down and around to this:

“I belong here. This is my home. Here, I am free to be me.”

It’s like WCCO points out, “Pleasant memories of the simple things … lures them back to the (great) outdoors.” In other words: You can take the man out of homelessness; but you can’t take the homelessness out of the man.

I think it’s okay to be homeless and poor. And I hope, content. I think it’s okay if simple things bring you pleasant memories.

I hope your life is a special blessing from God, whether you are homeless or not.

To Protect and Serve

2006-07-29T21:00:00.000-05:00

Do you remember the day when police cars boldly displayed the slogan “TO PROTECT AND SERVE” on cruiser doors? Compassion is a rare quality, especially among public servants; particularly among public servants who wield power.

Just as I say that, here’s a breath of mountain-fresh air from Aspen, Colorado.

City manager fires policewoman who used taser on homeless woman

"Your decision to use a Taser on an elderly woman who posed no immediate threat to you, herself, or anyone else in the community displays a complete lack of understanding of the values, philosophy and mission statement of the Aspen Police Department," City Manager Steve Barwick wrote in a memo delivered to (the fired patrolwoman).

The values, philosophy and mission statement of the Aspen Police Department sound venerable; where can I get hard copies?

Does anyone know if Aspen Police cars still display the slogan, “To Protect and Serve”?

I wonder if the City Manager of Aspen has any ideas on how to affect compassion and empathy in our public servants?

Compassion is a rare quality; it needs to be initiated and encouraged by City leaders, and executed by public employees. Compassion is one aspect of the workplace that doesn’t just trickle down.

Record Heat Kills

2006-07-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

Record heat kills the homeless and vulnerable; that’s what the headlines read across the world, especially in Big Cities.

Why don’t Federal or City governments spend a few bucks and begin by keeping the public hydrated? Why can’t we install simple drinking fountains in shaded public places?

Why don’t churches, businesses and private groups fund and manage emergency toilet facilities placed in parks, on parkways and under bridges?

Why don’t neighborhoods invite providers of these essential services into their community public property for ‘day camps’, ‘evening meals’, or free ‘music in the park’ events?

Taking care of our homeless, working poor, and disabled isn’t rocket science! It’s called ‘compassion', and it’s a rare treat to experience it.

Thank you, friends; for your compassion, and your prayers!

The Road to Homelessness

2006-07-26T13:00:00.000-05:00

I often hear the question, ‘Why are these people homeless.’ If you’ve ever been homeless, ever worked with the homeless, or have homeless friends, you know the answers can be as diverse as people are unusual. Homelessness comes in different colors, to assorted economic groups, under a variety of everyday circumstances. For sure, the road to homelessness is always lonely, most often frightening, and can come up on you with lightening speed. I know; I was homeless once. And it looks like I could be homeless again in a few short days.

For the past five years, my wife and I (and our dogs) have lived in our own home. We’ve done what we can to care for and keep up our home, we’ve always paid our bills (mostly on time), and we’ve governed our lives by Christian values, trying to think of others first.

Last night, I received a call from our mortgage holder. She politely reminded that my July house payment was past due (by two weeks), and calmly asked if I’d made arrangements to pay off our mortgage by August 1st. I had no idea what she was talking about, but apparently, our five year-old mortgage ballooned in five years. “Surely, you must have gotten a notice.” The only notice I received on my adjustable rate mortgage in five years (as interest, T-bills, etc. dropped) was a notice two months ago that my monthly payment had increased by $200.

I have no idea what is going on. I don’t know the mortgage or banking industry, any more than I know how to wrench my own car. I like bankers about as much as I like dentists, and I’m too old for this. I have no idea if somebody will show up at my house on Tuesday, August 1st, with new locks for the doors.

I don’t drink, or I’d be drunk. I don’t do drugs, so I have no idea where to get any. I’ve worked with the homeless for over ten years, so I’m not worried about a place to live; but, I worry about my wife, our dogs, and the road we’ll be traveling down the next few days. I hope that road isn’t a road to homelessness. And I hope that light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a train!

I hope I never give up hope. Friends, please remember us in your prayers.

The Cure for Homelessness

2006-07-24T19:00:00.000-05:00

Can there ever be a cure for homelessness?

As a youngster growing up, I got to participate in an experiment performed by the military (Air Force Office of Scientific Research) when I visited the dentist. I’m sure I wasn’t the only kid who got to taste (and experience) Electric Kool-Aid (LSD-laced juice). In the early 1950’s, the military experimented with ways to deal with large groups of injured children in the event of a catastrophe (Armageddon?).

My researches into ‘military drug testing’ lead me to an article posted in MIND MINDED PRODUCTIONS. This brief excerpt spurred me to thoughts that follow.

LSD Research by Jessica Locke
http://www.mindmined.com/public_library/nonfiction/jessica_locke_del_greco_LSD_research.html

“In 1999, the most effective method (though "effective" may be an exaggeration) for treating alcoholics (was) Alcoholics Anonymous. The goal of AA and of every twelve step program is to help the client develop a sense of spirituality that will replace the use of alcohol and illicit drugs. Typically this program requires years of hard work on the part of the subject and the therapist, but twelve-step spirituality does appear to successfully cure alcoholics and drug addicts who are thoroughly dedicated to the cause of sobriety.

Captain Al Hubbard, a former OSS spy, was acting in accordance with the theory that spirituality can induce sobriety when he began to administer LSD to hard-core alcoholics in the early 1950's. His private experiments were so successful that he established LSD treatment centers at three major hospitals in Canada. He also convinced other researchers, such as Dr. Humphrey Osmond, to exploit the spiritual aspects of the LSD trip.

Before Hubbard introduced Osmond to the spirituality theory of sobriety, Osmond had been using LSD to induce a nightmarish experience involving delirium tremors in his patients, believing that only those alcoholics who reached "rock-bottom" could recover. Osmond became convinced that Hubbard's method was preferable after he performed an experiment based on the new theory at Weyburn Hospital. Osmond administered a single high dose of LSD to 1000 hard-core alcoholics. Fifty percent of his subjects did not drink alcohol again. (Lee and Shalin, 50)

Osmond continued this research for thirteen years, finally concluding that "LSD therapy can turn a large number of alcoholics into sober members of society. Even more importantly, this can be done very quickly and therefore very economically" (Lee and Shalin, 50).”

MY THOUGHTS:

If LSD can induce nightmarish experiences that bring half of all alcoholics to a spiritual aspect of recovery, might it also work to bring the homeless around to being ‘homed?’

If the AA works to induce familial experiences that lead an alcoholic to a spiritual program of recovery, might a similar 12-step program help lead the homeless to a program of being ‘homed?’

Wouldn’t either effort, (administering LSD to the homeless to induce nightmarish experiences, or implementing a 12-step spiritual program to evoke familial experiences) be cheaper or more cost-effective than any ‘homeless program’ to date? Which effort to bring an end to homelessness would be most humane? Is either effort worthy of a try; an experiment; an attempt?

Please comment. Just don’t look to me for the answer; I already gave at the dentist!

The Heat on the Street Can Kill

2006-07-12T11:00:00.000-05:00

Its 80-some degrees with 60-something humidity and forecasted to be 100-plus this weekend; WOWUCH! That may not sound like dangerous temps and humidity to folks from warmer climes, but for the vulnerable in Minnesota, the heat indices forecasted for the coming weekend mean danger, and can even kill.

People in Minnesota struggle with cold winters; we only have to put up with a few days of dangerous summer heat. Many Minnesotans are able to escape the hottest days of summer in the air-conditioned comfort of malls, cars, businesses and homes. But for the homeless, six months of winter are dangerous, as well as a few days of burning-up heat here and there. I have more than one friend who laid down in the shade on a summer day, only to end up in the blistering sun a few hours later, only to end up dead a few minutes more.

If you want to help the homeless in the heat of the street, give them water and bananas. If you take water, nix the cute little bottles you carry in your car; get empty gallon jugs, fill them nearly to the top with tap water, and freeze them if possible. Take these gallon gems of life-saving elixir to the homeless, along with the bananas. Bananas are an inexpensive, easy to transport and consume source of potassium and nutrients.

Today, if I had gas in the van and ice in the cooler, I’d be out on the streets with sandwiches and bananas, cold pop and gallons of fresh water. I’d take along clean socks, t-shirts, and BUG SPRAY. (If you are homeless in Minnesota and the heat or the cold haven’t killed you, biting mosquitoes and spiders might.) But, I hardly ever see bug spray (too expensive) and gasoline is scarce ($$). Right now, all I can do is sit here in the cool comfort of home, and pray.

Just Passin' Time

2006-07-10T21:00:00.000-05:00

I’ve had some jam-packed few days the past few days. I haven’t been able to get much sleep and I haven’t had time to sit at the computer to keep up my journal. It seems that I either write or I photograph or I just pass time. Lately, I’ve been taking pictures and passing time; I haven’t done much writing. I’ll try to catch you up on what’s up here.

Today, I went to Waconia to visit my disabled and elderly friends. As I left home, I took a little-used dirt road about a mile from my house. As I rounded a dusty curve, I was surprised by a critter I’d never seen in the wild; a peacock. I took a couple of pictures, and began to drive away; that thing squawked in a voice I’d never heard before. Now, I understand why people keep those birds as watchdogs or watch-cocks or whatever they’re called.

When I got to Waconia, I stopped to visit Scottie, a good friend of mine. I met Scottie almost ten years ago when he lived on the streets. Today, he has a small apartment in Waco, funded in part by the County HRA. He’s developed a few hobbies; bird watching, flower watering and volunteering with me when I visit the homeless. He’s also a member on the board of HOPE of Minnesota.

Scottie’s proud of his place, and grateful that he doesn’t live on the street anymore. He has a nice apartment, and his front yard is full of donated flowers and bird houses and feeders. All of his flowers were donated by The Plant Lady in Waconia. Have you been to the Plant Sale Today! yet?

As I was leaving Waconia, I stopped by The Plant Lady’s house. Her driveway is jammed full of colorful pots. I usually grab a few flowers or plants to give to my friends; she never lets me pay for a thing. Today, I picked up a cucumber plant and a flat of colorful flowers to take to homeless camps in the cities. When the homeless have a plant to care for and water, they often take better care of their own selves. That’s kind of how love works when you pass it on.

SUNDAY, JULY 09, 2006
Measure of Compassion

When I feed the homeless on the streets, I have no kitchen to prep meals; I manage from the back of a Dodge van. I’ve cooked hot meals, served cold sandwiches, and delivered pizza parties from a converted bus, a pickup truck and a NorthFace day pack. I always wear foodservice gloves and use sanitizing wipes when I prep, but I still like to wash up good whenever I can. I make and serve simple meals and I let my friends do the doctoring to their personal tastes.

I always carry clean water for personal consumption, for sharing and for washing. I’m not compulsive about cleanliness, but I eat what I serve, so I serve clean. I always prepare meals fresh (John 21), and I even visit homey gardens so I can gather fresh produce to serve with meals.

I like to serve my friends in the shade of trees, not walls. Sometimes, I pack what I serve back into little clumps of woods where the homeless hide to pass the time. The homeless seem to spend a lot of time passing time, and hiding. When I sit with my friends, I watch as they fiddle their hands and shuffle their feet and check their pockets; and then repeat the process with precision. Today, one friend picked up a stick, rubbed his hand off on his pants, and then blew his nose into the air. And then, I watched him eat. It’s the same with most of my friends; they don't have a place to wash up before they eat.

In fact, most homeless have no place at all to clean up. When you live on the streets, road rash grows behind your ears and you develop a campy air about you. I think one thing the general public holds against the poor and homeless is that many don’t practice good personal hygiene. That’s mostly because there is no place for the homeless to wash up. I know I like to wash up a couple of times every day, and I think the homeless would too, if they could.

City folks and business people think that if they build public bathrooms, the homeless will come, and they will stay. A city’s compassion toward the poor and the homeless should be measured by the quality of public bathrooms provided to those who have no permanent address. And in the City of Minneapolis, the level of compassion toward the homeless stinks.

Hopes and Fears

2006-07-07T21:00:00.000-05:00

I’m in so much pain, I can hardly move. I can’t afford medical. I don’t do drugs. I just want to sleep, but I can’t. When I’m in so much pain, I can’t do anything right. Everything that happens around me makes me angry.

A person can’t be angry without being afraid first. I’m afraid the pain will never stop.

I hope … I never give up hope.

It's All in The Family

2006-07-05T21:00:00.000-05:00

Every morning I wake up, I’m grateful for a good night’s sleep. Sleeping well is important for our spiritual, mental and physical health. I know many people have difficulty getting good sleep. I’ve heard that some people walk, some talk, some even eat or drive cars in their sleep. Phew! Makes me tired just thinking about it.

I’m also grateful for every waking moment I get. I don’t think I get enough waking moments, so I’m up early and I go to bed late. I want to be wide awake every minute so I don’t miss one beautiful thing in this world. Not enough beautiful things happen in life; I want to stay awake for them all!

My awake time is precious; I invest some each day reading news and views concerning the homeless, the working poor, the elderly and the disabled. These groups of people have one thing in common; they live their lives hoping to get respect. They don’t live to get money; they don’t live to get good looks; they live their waking moments to get respect. I guess I just respect that!

I read a news article today from Seattle posted on the Homeless People's Network. It addresses the question: As the numbers of seniors grows, can the state help with their care? The question shouldn’t be new news to anybody. In fact, even the concerns raised in the article are old fodder for old codgers. What’s new and fresh is the inspired answer to a serious and developing concern.

The article begins:

“At their stage in life, Pam … and her friends don't swap tips about raising kids anymore. They talk about how emotionally draining and complicated it can be to find good (affordable) care for frail parents. And that leads to worries about their own old age.”

Four main concerns were raised in the article: assurance of quality health care (without abuse) is uncertain because of cost ($); public dollars will not be able to cover the growing health care cost ($); individuals need to develop plans to take care of their personal health care cost ($); we need laws that will lower health care cost ($).

And the final answer is:

“One of the remedies she (Pam) and her friends joke about is starting a commune. Perhaps, they would buy a big house, where they would live together and contribute to the common good. Wouldn't that be a pleasant way to live … ?”

I think it would be a pleasant way for the elderly, the disabled, the poor, and even the homeless to live. I think it would make for some beautiful moments in some not-so-beautiful days in some pretty important lives. I think so, because it sounds just like it's all in the ‘family’ to me!

And if we all lived like family, I think we’d all get a better night’s sleep.

Some Blasted Fun!

2006-07-03T21:00:00.000-05:00

I’ve had so much blasted fun today, and it’s only the 3rd! I spent a good part of the day catching up with friends on the internet. Plus, it’s a Monday and I’m feeling good!

But, it’s a hot Minnesota Monday, and it leaves me thinking of cooler times. And thinking of cooler times gets me to thinking about Willie.

This past winter, Willie had a tough time keeping a handle on his toes. I think he did more than a few trips to the hospital with frozen feet. And on each trip, he lost a toe or two. Boy, it sure has slowed Willie down.

When the homeless get slow and start losing digits by the foot to frostbite, they are in for more than a foot of trouble. When a person has lost his toes, its difficult to stand up, it’s hard to walk, and it does a number on the personal hygiene; I think. At least, that’s what they all tell me on the street. I have more than one friend who has lost toes, and feet, even entire friends to frostbite. I’ve lost a friend or two to the cold myself. Minnesota cold can make a body want to just quit! So, while I’m sittin’ thinkin’ of cooler times, I’m thinking about Willie, too.

I saw him Sunday, and he’s still wearing winter boots; I mean, he’s wearing mukluks salvaged months ago from piles of melting snow. The boots don’t work too well for walking around in the heat and humidity; especially when walked in by an old man who isn’t so good at walking, period.

Tomorrow, I plan on having some fun; some blasted fun! I’m planning to blast Willie right out of his old boots, and into a new pair of shoes! I hope he’ll have some blasted fun, as well.

Living the Bottom-line

2006-07-02T21:00:00.000-05:00

Each day that I serve the homeless on the streets, I have a specific amount of money I can spend. I get to decide how I spend the money, based on how I’ve spent money every week since 1997. I might make mistakes, but they’re nickel and dime when I do. I don’t get any complaints, so I just keep on keepin’ on.

I spend the budget I get on fuel, food, soda pop, and kitchen supplies; pretty much in that order. If I have money left from week to week, I spend it on emergency items of a personal nature, like socks, first aid supplies, and birthday gifts. Often, the homeless I serve give me spare change. I spend that money on tobacco and beer.

I drive over 300 miles each week to serve the homeless and the disabled; that’s a lot of fuel. I spend one dollar on each meal I serve; up to 120 meals every week. I don’t usually have money left over to buy socks or special needs items; those are often provided by individuals and corporations through donations and contributions. Most every week, I get enough spare change to buy three pouches of spin, and a twelve-pack of beer.

Each year, I drive over 15,000 miles in a donated van, I serve over 6,000 meals outdoors, and I provide hundreds of people emergency services, all on a budget of less than $15,000.

HOPE of Minnesota is a 501(c)3, not-for-profit organization. I’m no accountant, but looking at the budget and the services provided, I see a whole lot of profiting going on. Hungry people are fed, sick people are ministered to, and everyday, God makes miracles of hope and healing happen to the hurting.

Everyday we live, we are given a measure of Mercy and a gift of Love. We get to decide how we spend that budget of blessings. At the end of our days, our measure of profit isn’t going to be determined by an accountant’s book, but by how we've spent everyday living the bottom-line.

Look into the Future

2006-07-01T21:00:00.000-05:00

Many of the homeless I see on the streets sleep under bridges, hang out in abandoned buildings, or camp in little clumps of woods. Where my friends live makes it hard for me to find them sometimes. When I was younger, I could venture into abandoned grain elevators and slippery caves to search for folks who had no permanent address. Now, my body is older and I can’t do it like I used to; but hopefully, I do it wiser. At least, I don’t go into dark and scary places anymore. And I always carry a monocular with me, so I can look into the future.

If you have a monocular with you at a baseball game, you can watch the play at first without having to wait to see the replay on the big screen. If you have a monocular with you when you go bird watching, you can be first on the spot with your pocket-sized scope. And, if you have a monocular with you when you are searching for the homeless, you can look into the future, but only about a hundred yards or so.

When I’m driving down West River Road looking for my homeless friends, I can stop, pull out my compact scope, and explore the woods on the opposite bank without having to hike a precarious slope. As I’m waiting out a red light at the corner, I can look to the crew hanging out blocks ahead, and grab a few lunches for a Stop and Drop before the light even turns green. If I’m out exploring the tracks south of the North Town Yard, I can investigate the cloud of dust approaching and duck out of sight before the bull gets to investigate me.

Today, I drove down under the span of bridges on the edge of town. I parked in the shade where I would be cool and somewhat concealed. I could see that there was a group of friends assembled in The Living Room about a hundred yards away. The Living Room is an out-of-sight, out-of-mind spot where the homeless gather to pass the time. It’s also a ‘first-come, first-served’ place where you don’t belong unless you have been invited.

I wasn’t invited to visit the folks in The Living Room today; I wasn’t on my regular route of scheduled stops. But there I sat, parked in the shade only a hundred yards away with a van full of food, and a heart full of feelings. So I pulled out my scope, and I took a look into the future.

I could see from a distance that my friends were busy, but it looked like no business of mine. I could see that my friends could see me, but no one got up to eat, or to come and say hello. I could see that the peace pipe was being passed among my friends, and I couldn’t see what kind of piece was in the pipe; I passed.

I quietly said a prayer for each of my homeless friends, and I slowly drove away.

Who was it that I scoped out today? I don’t remember. With my scope, I can look into the future, but I can not look into the past.

So, who will it be that I see tomorrow? I have no idea. With my scope, I can see into the future, but only about a hundred yards at a time.

Now is the time to say a prayer. A prayer is a look a whole lot farther into the future than can ever been seen with a scope.

Sorry, Georgia

2006-06-30T21:00:00.000-05:00

As new pioneers, explorers of the uncharted world that is homelessness, we hope to see you build a team of members whose soul purpose is to reach out to those who live with no permanent address. Each and everyday, old and young alike face the challenges inherent with being homeless. It takes a dedicated, never-ending effort to help the sick, the sorry, the sad.

Considering all the plans and programs designed and implemented to ‘end homelessness’ to date, the headlines should read “PROBLEM SOLVED … Ten Years Ago.” Instead, we read today from Las Vegas, “City marshals … against homeless”.

"Last week, (Las Vegas City Mayor) Goodman said he wanted to force a (any) homeless person who didn't want to be helped to get services (hospitalized, institutionalized or incarcerated). The individual would serve as a 'test case' for the system."

Sorry, Georgia; there is no Santa Claus to bring the homeless a home in Vegas, or anywhere else. But the Grinches abound, everywhere; even among the homeless community. One such Grinch is certainly Crazy About Las Vegas. Concerning the controversial plan that allows ‘expert’ public servants to forcibly remove the homeless from the streets, he writes …

"I am very glad for this law, because there are some seriously mentally ill folks on the streets who desperately need to be hospitalized. And leaving them to wander the streets, unable to fend for themselves, is a worse evil than incarcerating them. And it is folks like these, and the perpetually intoxicated homeless, who give the label "homeless" such a negative connotation."

You would think that a perpetually homeless person would understand that bigoted, stereotypical ‘connotations’ only serve to keep the homeless, the poor and the disabled down in the gutters of society. Sweeping the streets and putting the homeless behind bars, especially as a 'test case', is a crule and unusual experiment that will do more harm than good. What the homeless really need is a helping hand up and out of their misery; even if only for a moment, or a day, at a time.

Georgia and friends: Never give up hope! There will come a day when the poor of this world will inherit the Kingdom they are promised; and they will be homeless no more.

"Now is the time for all goodmen (including the Governor of Vegas) to come to the aid of their countrymen, especially, their vulnerable and disabled countrymen."

The Cost of Compassion

2006-06-29T21:00:00.000-05:00

The outreach organization that I volunteer for has no paid staff, no office rent to pay, and no fundraising expenses. All of the money they receive goes to provide food, fellowship and emergency services to the homeless, the poor, the elderly and the disabled.

While prices for goods and services continue to rise for everyone, the biggest expense HOPE of Minnesota incurs is for vehicle maintenance and fuel. The most difficult expense for the organization to cover is for gasoline; the price of gas has tripled since I began volunteering in 1997.

Wondering what the homeless perspective is on the high cost of gasoline? Check this out.

Remember us in your prayers!

Don't Give Money to Beggars

2006-06-28T21:00:00.000-05:00

In my searching the internet regarding the homeless, I find a lot of comments about people that panhandle or sign for money. It appears the consensus is; don’t give money to beggars.

I understand that this is a ‘money world’ for a majority of folks, especially for city folks. And for city folks, homeless or not, the most popular ways to get money are employment, welfare, or ‘operating’. In the homeless community, ‘operating’ is scheming, scamming, or shamming for money, drugs or whatever else is on the ‘needs’ list.

It’s disappointing that many of the bloggers who criticize panhandlers and signers spend a lot of their own time writing about ‘Me’, ‘My’, and ‘Mo' (as in Mo’ Money). Look at there sites, and you often find itsy bitsy ‘signs’ begging for your donations (paypal buttons). In my book, ‘operating’ is ‘OPERATING’, no matter where you wake your ass up in the morning.

Hey, honest is as honest does. And if people can’t find you honest, they ought to at least find you funny; funny like my friend, Terrible T.

Plant Sale Today!

2006-06-27T21:00:00.000-05:00

If you drive west of the Twin Cities on Highway 5, you go through Waconia, a used-to-be-small town that still boasts of a ‘farm store’ selling feed and seed and chicks. If you don’t know ‘chicks’, read a book about livestock; some people still get eggs every morning from a coop.

As you pass through town, you’ll notice a hand-painted sign nailed to a telephone pole announcing ‘Plant Sale Today’. An arrow points up into the old-home neighborhood just off the highway. When I first saw that sign years ago, I figured some old geezer must be selling hostas out of his garage. I was wrong; partly.

One day, I followed the arrows to a quaint little home with a driveway full of colorful flowers and plants. There, I met the lady of the house. I learned that she works for a garden nursery, and with permission from her boss she rescues pots and plants that have been thrown away. She brings the plants new life behind her house, and only puts them out in her driveway when they are at the peak of flowering perfection. She sells the packs and pots of plants, and donates all of the proceeds to a Christian mission effort across the globe.

From the day I met The Plant Lady, I knew I had made a dear friend. She always had a moment to talk when I stopped by, and she always offered me a motherly hug. This past spring, I heard she had died. I was devastated. I lost my mother only years ago; I wasn’t ready to face the news of loosing another close friend.

Today, I drove by The Plant Lady’s house and saw her busy at work feeding and watering the bed of flowers in her driveway. I was elated. I stopped my van in the middle of the street and ran to say hello. We hugged and laughed and hugged some more, just like family.

The Plant Lady knows what I do with most of my time, feeding the homeless in The Cities. And she always has a moment to ask me how my friends are getting along. Today, she made a list of things that the homeless need so her friends can ‘garage sale shop’ for boots, backpacks, coats and the like. When I leave, she makes sure I take plants for my friends, and she won’t let me pay for a thing.

The Plant Lady has an enthusiasm for giving and a passion for life that rubs off with every hug she shares. Her smile is as genuine and comforting as the land surrounding her town used to be.

Progress and development are eating away the countryside of life that used to flourish here. But there’s nothing in this world that will ever take away the love and friendship The Plant Lady puts into every flowering pot.

If you ever drive through Waconia, look for the sign on the north side of the highway that reads, “Plant Sale Today”. And then follow the arrows up the hill to the driveway full of flowers, and The Plant Lady full of love.

Feeling Just Fabulous

2006-06-26T21:00:00.000-05:00

I spend as much time as I can on the streets, looking for my friends who are homeless. I wonder if they are hungry or out of water or maybe they just need a friend. So, I go out and try to find them.

Some days, it’s tough finding anybody around unless I’m willing to go around tough places. I’m often feeding on the streets alone, so I don’t put myself in mortal danger; at least, not on purpose, if I can help it. Still, I’ve managed to get punched; pounded to the ground; threatened with a shotgun; and bonked on the head from behind. And I keep on searching for my friends, sometimes in places I have no business being. I can’t help it; I do it because I get high.

We do things, and continue to do those same things whether it’s good for us or not, because doing those things gets us high. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that opiate-like drugs are naturally released in our brains when we do something, learn something, or achieve something that brings us pleasure; being a neuroscientist helps.

Recently, neuroscientists from the University of Southern California have proposed a simple theory that the ‘click’ of comprehension triggers the release of natural opiate-like substances in the brain. The concept is the brain is getting its fix every time we ‘get it’.

“While you're trying to understand a difficult theorem, it's not fun," says Irving Biederman, professor of neuroscience in the USC College of Letters, Arts and Sciences.

"But once you get it, you just feel fabulous."

You can read all about it here; 'Thirst for knowledge' may be opium craving. But I hope you 'get it' in your everyday life.

We all know that homelessness is a problem in society. We understand that there is a lack of affordable housing and chronic unemployment. Everyday, we see addiction and mental illness and handicaps that cause untold suffering and sickness. Most of us really do want to help ease pain and misery when we see it happening to the poor and the vulnerable.

For me, the plight of the homeless is a ‘difficult theorem’, a challenging truth. It’s a complicated problem, but it has a simple answer. It’s all about loving our neighbors as we love ourselves.

Granted, I don’t practice that truth perfectly. And often, its no fun. But I get it ... and I feel just fabulous.

Another Perfect Day!

2006-06-25T21:00:00.001-05:00

After a brief rain this morning, it turned into a beautiful day. With low humidity and mild temperatures … a clean, fresh breeze from the north … blue sky with puffs of clouds overhead … this is why we live in Minnesota. Whether we spend the day alone in thought, or with company in chaos; it just doesn’t get any better than this.

The forecast calls for a few more days like today, but without rain. Nights are supposed to be clear and crisp. This is perfect sleeping weather. It’s hard to believe that anybody would gripe about having to sleep out in weather like this. But then again, when I think about the dark … the dangers … all those bugs!

I walked into a vacant camp this afternoon and came across some personal belongs left by a homeless friend.

I wonder which came first … the sign, or the handbook.

I wonder if either was an answer to prayers.

Just Like a Homeless Guy

2006-06-24T21:00:00.000-05:00

I set out this morning to put fuel in our van. I buy gas at The Pump in Excelsior, a small town west of Minneapolis. Our friends at The Pump donate a tank of gas each month to help our outreach to the homeless. They also host a ‘spare change jar’ for our ministry near their register. We couldn’t continue without loyal supporters like our friends at The Pump.

While I was in Excelsior, I took pictures of some cabin-homes where my sister used to live. A collection of these quaint homes are on Lake Minnetonka near the site of the old Excelsior Play Land amusement park. The park closed down in the late 1960’s.

The Rolling Stones performed at Excelsior Play Land in ‘65 or ‘66. Story goes, while Mick Jagger was visiting the local Drug Store (to get a prescription filled), he ran into Jimmy who looked pretty ill. The ‘Jimmy’ in the song, ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’, is a true-life resident of Excelsior, Minnesota.

When I met Jimmy years ago, he was still spending most of every day walking the streets of Excelsior. He was overweight and he moved in a lazy way, like he had nothing else to do. He wasn’t particularly handsome, in an ugly sort of way; he was always a bit disheveled. When he walked, he carried his head low with his eyes to the ground. When he talked, he looked down to the world at his feet. When he sat on a corner bench, he'd chew the stub of a fat cigar and his eyes always looked down. Jimmy carried his whole self in a perpetual slouch and was often mistaken for a homeless guy.

Many Water Street business folks didn’t like Jimmy because he looked poor. He was always being accused of panhandling because people offered him money thinking he needed money. With progress in mind, folks blamed Jimmy for scaring away tourists. He could have been a real-life tourist attraction, right out of a Rolling Stones’ song, if folks in Town thought he could have made them a buck. But Jimmy looked too much like a homeless guy.

I don’t know if Jimmy is alive today. I haven’t seen him on the streets of Excelsior for awhile. I’ve heard that he’s stuck in a hospice care facility in Town. If he is alive and living in an old folk’s home, he’s effectively homeless. If he has family and friends to care for him, he’s one of the lucky ones, but I doubt it. I picture Jimmy living out his golden years in style, but I imagine he still looks pretty ill; just like a homeless guy.

If Jimmy is alive, he could use your prayers for peace and health. And if you think a letter of encouragement would help him, send your best wishes, along with a buck, to:

Jimmy the homeless guy
C/O General Delivery
Excelsior, MN 55331.

I think Jimmy deserves as much. After all, he walked the streets of obscurity most of his life, just like a homeless guy. In the least, he deserves a cup of tea ... eh, Mick?

A Fine Day Ahead

2006-06-23T21:00:00.000-05:00

I had a feeling it was going to be a fine day today from early on. It was about 6:00 am when I got up to tend to my dogs. I sat outside for an hour, sipped coffee from my thermos and looked across the yard to the day ahead.

Early morning is like no other time of day for me. This morning was especially fine. The chatter of critters hummed from in the trees. I breathed slow and deep and filled my lungs with a pleasant air that could have swallowing me up. I knew from early this morning, there would be a fine day ahead.

I had a few errands to run; a couple of places to go; a hundred people I hoped to visit. There just isn’t enough time in every day, if you ask me. But, today was going to be a fine day; I knew that from the start.

I ordered a print online from one posted Monday (A Fine Day to Pray). The photo was of Willie and JohnBoy taken at fellowship. I wanted to get that photo to my friend first thing today.

When I arrived at the Drug Store to pick up my 22-cent print, I met Helen. Helen is an older lady who pleasantly tried to be helpful. She was amazed at how she didn’t understand ordering prints from home on the computer. I described the photo of my two friends from Sunday's fellowship. I told her that I was taking the print to my volunteer friend in Waconia. I showed Helen the print, and she pointed. Her finger moved between the two as if playing ‘This Little Piggie’, and finally stopped: ‘So, this …this … this is your friend … from town, I mean.’ Helen’s finger pointed to the man wearing the cap. I explained that both men in the photo were my friends; simply, friends. She softly agreed, “Of course.”

Helen rang up my purchases as we chatted. I don’t remember the words we shared, but it was a heart-felt discourse about hope and the homelessness. Tears swelled up in my eyes at one point, and Helen looked up. She asked, “Sir, I’d like to give you a hug.”

There I am, a 50-something old cripple, bent over the counter giving this frail, 70-something mother a big old bear hug. I wish I had pictures. It was an emotional milestone in what proved to be a very fine day.

I visited with a lot of friends today. I do every Friday. I got many hugs throughout the day, but Helen's hug was my frist birthday hug of the day!

Today, I was 53 years old. I was born on the 23rd of June, 1953. It certainly was a fine day … for sure.

Homey Headlines

2006-06-22T20:00:00.001-05:00

Today from Ventura County, California

Homeless Are Ordered Out

In a hybrid attempt at compassion and policing, a team of police officers, social workers, mental health and housing specialists swept the Santa Clara River bottom looking for homeless campers …
… yellow warning notices with social service referrals were tucked under cans of food, (left) on dented coolers, propped on ripped lawn chairs or laid on piles of filthy clothes.

This sweep of homeless camps along a river in Oxnard was prompted by a recent murder, and by an increase in vandalism and thefts in the area. City officials, social service workers and the homeless know the increased crime isn’t perpetrated by the homeless, but by criminals that prey on the homeless, the poor and the vulnerable. The homeless who live in seclued camps to avoid crime loose everything when they don't conform to social service program criteria. Often, programs that provide services to the homeless provide criminals anonymity and concealment making it easier for them to conduct criminal business.

At a local Twin Cities shelter, a survey was conducted of 80 men staying overnight at the facility. Over half had cell phones, most used to conduct organized criminal activity.

At a local soup line, the MPD effected a drug sting to nab two dozen ‘homeless’ persons for marijuana possession and drug dealing. That sting shut down the pot supply and pot smoking among the homeless community for a couple of weeks. As a result, crack became the high on the hill. It’s been known that crack users and dealers work the receiving docks at some charities, and donations to those charities go through ‘volunteer' crack dealers before ever reaching the needy.

Homeless Are Welcomed Here

People in all walks of life lump others that are different into distinct groups, or communities. Society tosses together a group of poor and distraught individuals who have no permanent address, and labels them ‘homeless’. The homeless share a peculiar walk in life, but they are not all criminals. Violent and predatory individuals have crept into the homeless family, and prey on the most vulnerable. Predatory and violent criminals live among the ‘middle’ class, as well; I’ve heard them called ‘bankers’, ‘ceo’s’, and elected ‘public’ officials.

I have friends who are business owners, friends who are business doers, and friends who have no business at all. It doesn’t matter to me if my friends have homes or not; when soup’s on, all friends are welcome here.

Especially tomorrow; it's my birthday!

Twin Cities Needs No Headlines

2006-06-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

“Just call them poor people and be done with them.”

I invest some of my time studying issues concerning the homeless from across the globe. It’s easy to research topics on the internet, and I subscribe to a few news groups that specifically address homeless issues. I’m always surprised to learn that while cultures and colors may change, cruel attitudes and malicious opinions about the poor and homeless know no borders.

Here are some headlines I uncovered yesterday concerning the homeless:

Baton Rouge will use horse patrols to deal with homeless.

"We recognize that post-Katrina, our homeless population has grown. We want to protect the rights of these individuals, but we certainly want to protect citizens from any harassment," stated an administrator from the mayor’s office.

Some of the City’s homeless problem likely involves ‘citizens’ and is a result of Katrina, worsened by the bungling efforts of FEMA. I wonder why the City’s homeless are considered ‘these individuals’, and not ‘citizens’ by the mayor’s office? As long as officials see the homeless as ‘a singular and separable group’ apart from the community, any community efforts to help the homeless will be futile, unless covert.

A metro Council member added “Since Katrina there has been a huge influx of, for lack of a better word, tramps or bums or panhandlers. And they’re very aggressive.”

People use words like ‘tramp’ or ‘bum’ to describe all homeless people out of ignorance and lack of respect, not for lack of a better word. Then the same people usually have to add thoughtless last words trying to justify their bigoted opinions.

Such prejudice against the homeless shouldn’t be surprising to the ‘citizens’ of the Twin Cities. We need no headlines.

Radio shows in our area frequently blast the homeless. I came across such a diatribe on a popular morning show last March. The program’s host interrupted an onslaught of homeless jokes and insults to exclaim, “Well, it’s no secret how I feel about the homeless!” He quickly added, “Except the mental ones.”

‘Except the mental ones?’ That sounds just like, ‘and they’re very aggressive’ from Baton Rouge. When I heard those March words, I quickly turned off my radio and thought about the comment made by the host of the mourning show. I was surprised, but not jock-shocked. I used to work with the celebrity that made that comment. He was one of the people that influenced me to get out of ‘the business’ and to get involved with the homeless almost twenty years ago.

Here's another headline:

Orlando moves to limit mass meals to the homeless.

If charitable groups want to feed the homeless in Orlando, they'll have to find someplace other than city parks -– or city property -- to do it. An ordinance was passed by the city council that states, “No one can feed groups of 15 or more people without a one-time-use permit, and such permits shall be issued no more than twice a year to one person, and the city will dictate the location of the group feeding.”

Cool. I get it and I agree. If charitable organizations want to feed the homeless and hungry in groups larger than 14 at a time, they should open their churches, their homes and other private property, as well as their hearts to the poor, the homeless, the elderly and the disabled. When Christ fed thousands at a time, He set the crowd down (in groups), blessed the food (in portions), and gave the food to His disciples. His disciples then passed the food on, with all the blessings, to the smaller groups (Matt 14).

I’ve feed more than 300 people on the streets in one day, some in groups of more than 60 people at one time. It was nuts! I’d rather feed many small groups one at a time, than one large group all at one time. It's common sense. Plus, it’s more respectful to the hungry folks, it’s easier to hear each individual, and the food tastes better!

It shouldn’t be any problem for nonprofits in Orlando or the Twin Cities or any city to feed small groups. If the hungry are many, make more groups and get more ‘disciples’ to pass on the blessings. Then, feed the small groups in city parks, on city sidewalks or under city bridges, if that’s what the city wants. Better yet, respect the rights of every city citizen and fellowship with the hungry and poor out of the sights and minds of bigoted bullies that would label these people ‘tramps’ and ‘bums’ (or ‘mental ones’) before they get to know them.

Feeding and caring for the poor, the homeless, the elderly and the disabled isn’t rocket science! All it takes is one compassionate person to do one quiet act of random kindness, with respect … times a million persons. If society, especially Christian society, could muster up the million, I bet there wouldn’t be any homeless in Orlando, Baton Rouge or the Twin Cities.

Hey, if we can’t find one million people to each do one good thing, then let's at least find a million people who won’t do a million bad things. It would be a start to ending homelessness, as we know it. And it wouldn’t take headlines or a Ten Year Plan.

Waking Up This Morning

2006-06-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning, and I can hardly move my fingers. My hands feel like they’ve been crushed by a ton of rocks. My fingers are swollen; each one jammed and squeezed into its own distorted shape. If I soak my hands in hot water, it helps ease the pain for a minute. Now, as I type, I’m all thubms. I have arthritis all over my body, but this morning, like many mornings, the worst pain is in my hands. I can take pills for the pain, but I don’t do drugs. I’ve lived with arthritis for 25 years. There is no cure, short of a miracle straight from God. Yes, miracles happen everyday.

I have an elderly friend who woke up this morning, and he woke up tired. He says he doesn’t sleep much at night, even when he takes pills. He’s tired most of the day, too, and he doesn’t nap well. Today, my friend is going to his doctor to discuss radiation and chemotherapy for cancer. He recently had an operation, and the surgery/recovery is taking a toll on his old body. The treatment for cancer can be overwhelming, even devastating. There is no cure, short of a miracle straight from God. Yes, my friend believes in miracles, too. I hold him in my special prayers today!

I have a young friend who woke up this morning sick, sorry and sad. His head still throbbed from yesterday; his body ached from lying on a rock-hard floor. He tried to sleep last night, but the crowd and the commotion kept him awake. At the sound of the 6 AM alarm, he and 200 other men get driven from their refuge, out into a morning mist. The rain and the wind only strengthen the stench and resolve of the herd; most move north in search of breakfast.

This young friend of mine is homeless; he has no permanent address. He has spent every night of the past five years in ‘safe waiting’, a place that’s kind of like a prison, but there are no bars or guards to protect you. While treatment can be found for the symptoms and pain that comes with being homeless, there is no cure for my friend short of a miracle straight from God. I don’t know if my friend believes in miracles; I’m just getting to know him better. I keep my friend in my special prayers, too.

I know that God heals all manner of illnesses, and He can rid a man of any demon that would posses him. I also know that God gives you and me the power to heal and cast out demons, in Jesus’ name. As for me; I know about the pain and I’m learning about the power. As for being able to heal ... I don't know; I'm just waking up this morning.

How about you? How are you waking up this morning?

A Fine Day to Pray

2006-06-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

I spent most of yesterday on the streets visiting my friends who have no permanent address. It was a terrific day, short of the argument that ensued when Cabbage returned from the bootlegger with a liter of vodka.

My friends know that when they pull out drugs or alcohol or stupid behavior while I’m serving food, I’ll drive away. I’ll leave in the middle of making sandwiches, if the Lord moves me. I’ve stopped a Bible Study in mid-verse, picked up and drove off into a rainy day, rather than get sucked in by the demons of the moment. I’ve survived this long, listening to my heart … and I’ve only been slammed a couple of times; but never killed yet. I’ll write more about it later, Lord willing …

When I got home Sunday afternoon, I had chores to do. Then, I spent hours at the computer downloading and editing photos and videos from the day. I didn’t get to bed until early this morning … there just isn’t enough time in a day. But heck, what do I know? God created the day, and He figured ‘It was good!’ I’ll live with it, thank you.

The rains Friday and Saturday pert near washed out Willie’s camp … but, Willie survived. He’s living in a dry creek bed; a creek that has been rerouted by folks that have a design for our future, and the future of creeks and woods and wild critters around the world. Willie said the rains didn’t wash him out, but they did a job on his laundry. He said the rushing water came about three feet from his bedroll. If you want to take a trip, have a look …

As I sat with Willie and JohnBoy and others at fellowship, someone started talking about how the Police and public officials have been treating the homeless and disabled on the streets lately. Everybody praised the wave of compassion and understanding that has been exercised toward the less fortunate. Someone said that on account we’ve all been treated so fairly, we should have a special day to celebrate our Public Servants; just like Father’s Day or Flag Day or Nickel Dickel Day! Then someone exclaimed … ‘Hey, we should just give ‘em all an extra-special amount of respect everyday!’

What a concept! As long as you keep the plug in the jug ... as long as you stay out’a sight and out’a mind … as long as you keep that busy little voice in your head quiet … you should get along just fine in this life. Boy, have we got our work cut out for us.

That’s okay, today. Today looks like a fine day to sit back and meditate about our future. Hummmmmm….

Happy Father's Day!

2006-06-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

Last week, some of my friends on the street asked me what I’d be doing ‘on Father’s day.’ I had to think about it a minute … was it on a Saturday or a Sunday?

Well, I guess Father’s Day is today … Sunday. I did wake up early to cards and gifts and best wishes from family, and I’m grateful; kind’a. At my age, I’m grateful just to wake up in the morning. And yeah, I am a father, but the gift and card were from my wife, and I’m not her father, eh? Plus, I hardly talk to my kids during the rest of the year, unless we’ve gathered for a birthday or a funeral or some other celebratory occasion. We’re all too busy, I guess.

No, today is just a Sunday, and I plan (Lord willing) to do what I do every Sunday or Tuesday or Thursday or Friday. I’ll head out to the streets, the riverbanks and hidden bridges in search of my family and friends who have no permanent address. I know some of my friends are fathers, and I know from experience that many will be particularly despondent because they’re not there for their kids; and their kids are not there for them; and they should have done better with their lives; and … It goes on and on and on, ad nauseum.

Today is a day no different than any other day; except somebody in society made this a ‘special day’ of celebration for economic reasons. It’s the same reason the Christian Church made Easter and Christmas official ‘holy days’; to get more pagans to feel guilty (the primary weapon of our evil foe), and to get the guilt-ridden into churches so as to increase the size of the collection plates.

This day, I celebrate Heavenly Father’s Day with my family and friends on the street, just like I do everyday I’m out on the streets. This is the day the Lord has made, like every other day. It is a day to celebrate our freedom from past shortcomings, to pick ourselves up with the help of what family and friends we have, and to get on with our lives, confident that God is not looking to ‘get us’ for past mistakes … He’s looking to heal us, to forgive us, and to help us up and out of the misery of loneliness and self-pity.

Hey … today is a day just like every other day. So, Happy Heavenly Father’s Day!

A Stormy Night

2006-06-17T10:00:00.000-05:00

WOW! Did the Twin Cities get hammered last night … one of those 3” rains with 2” hail and flash floods. I was sitting cozy at home watching the live news videos of trees down and lightening strikes and cars stalled on the interstate. We even made national news this morning … (CNN) manhole covers blowing off, water shooting up and out of storm sewers, broken glass and smashed roofs and buckled concrete. Hum … I wonder how my friends did out on the streets.

In the Hebrew, God is called ‘the heart-knower’, the only One who knows the thoughts of man. So, I figure when I’m thinking about my less fortunate friends, I’m praying for them … I try to keep my thoughts ‘righteous’. This morning, I’m thinking about Willie and Brad and Cool Harley, and others who probably didn’t get inside last night. Oh, yeah … and Fat Chick Rick. I’ve known FC Rick for years … he just moved back outside this last week. He’s struggling with an awful addiction, so he could use some special prayers.

I have a ton more friends ... too many to count. So, I’ll just keep on thinking … and know that God hears my prayers!

Ain't No Trouble

2006-06-16T23:00:00.000-05:00

I spent this morning like I do most Friday mornings; I visited an elderly friend of mine who has no permanent address. Sure, she lives in a ‘health care facility’ for the old and disabled … we used to call them ‘old folks homes.’ But, we’re a kinder, gentler, smarter generation now, and we know that no place like that could be called a ‘home’. Hence, ‘health care facility’.

My friend receives Social Security Income. She and her husband worked in the system their entire lives, and she earned her retirement income … about 900-something a month. I don’t know the particulars, but I do know that the facility she lives in takes all of her SSI, except for about 40 bucks; just enough for a once-a-month hairdo. A friend (?) of hers' holds her checkbook because she doesn’t have enough money to write any checks. Last week, she was told that a recent illness and a change in addresses meant she owes the facility she now lives in a few hundred bucks. So, she has to pay $25 every month toward the money she owes for moving from one ‘no permanent address’ to another ‘no permanent address.’ I don’t get it.

Hasn’t this woman paid her dues by now? She’s going on a hundred-something; she’s worked a hard life of poverty; and she has no family that is willing or able to care for her, let alone, visit with her. Now, she can’t even afford a GAULDANG haircut. She lives in this facility with a couple of hundred other old and disabled (and, young and disabled) folks who are either convalescing or in hospice. Look up the word, hospice; it means these people are going to die in this place. Even the residents don’t call the place home, and it is operated by a ‘religious’ group who seems to do a pretty compassionate job of caring for these folks. I can’t imagine what they need her last few bucks for. Of course, when you times her bucks times the numbers who live there times the rate of ‘return over’ (or, passin’ on) … etc. I guess I just don’t have the head for business.

I’ve been to a hundred different ‘health care facilities’, and I’ve seen some pretty horrible sights. I’m sure there are worse places to live in this world; I just hope I don’t end up living out my ‘golden years’ in one of these.

So, I stop by every Friday morning to visit my elderly friend. She’s about the same age my mom would be, so she’s kind of like an aunt to me. I listen to her stories with interest, and she listens to me. I only have an hour or so to invest with my friend, but I think our time together is worth more than gold. I always try to bring her something; not something I think she can use, but something I know she can give away. She doesn’t think she has much to offer anymore, so I leave her some sodas or chips … maybe, some candy. She gives it away throughout the week, and then tells me all about it when I see her again.

Before I leave, I slip her a few bucks for ‘spending money’. It’s never much, but I figure she can save up for a new hairdo if she wants. She always acts surprised that I would give her money. And then, she always meanders over to her closet, sneaks the money into the same flowered nightie and exclaims, ‘If I die, you be sure to look in here first!’ Yeah; like I’ll be there when she dies. Worse; like I’d go through her closet if she did!

Nah. I’ll put all of the horrible thoughts and sights and sounds of her humble abode aside, and revel in the fellowship we shared today. Afterall, it ain’t no trouble; it’s actually a joy!

A Blog Is A Blog Is A Blog

2006-06-16T19:00:00.000-05:00

Okay, I get it. I guess I get it. I mean, I'm learning about this 'blog' stuff.

A year ago, I discoverd blogspot and started posting stories about my visits with friends and family who are homeless. I had no knowledge of the internet then, but I have learnt a few things since. I know how to post , I know how to add photos, and I can even include a video if I want. WOW ... is this an amazing world, or what?

My problem is, I've flunked every English class I've ever taken, I have no editor or proofreader for my stories, and I'm limited to the technology I have at hand when I'm 'inspired'. Yeah, I have incredible experiences everyday. I write good stuff down all the time. And, I take some pretty incredible photos. I even sit down, put it all together on the computer screen, and then I stop.

I stop because I'm a perfectionist, and the stories I have to share are never perfect. But, this is supposed to be a blog ... I mean, like a journal where friends can come and read about my day-to-day. Plus, I'm getting old and tired and don't have the time or the patience to get everything 'right'. So, I'm making this addition to my blog-o-sphere ... NO PERMANENT ADDRESS, TOO.

I plan to keep up with NO PERMANENT ADDRESS. I want to continue posting stories that provoke thought and inspire others. Here, all I'm going to do is journal ... add a few photos ... and take it one day at a time. I'd like to post to this spot frequently, Lord willing.

I hope you stick around. GEEZE, I hope I stick around!

Hey, I haven't quit yet, eh?